


Mad World

by a_taller_tale



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Angst, Birthday, Canonical Character Death, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, RvB Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 05:55:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17278352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_taller_tale/pseuds/a_taller_tale
Summary: Simmons gets a mysterious message in the present. Meanwhile in the past, Grif has to explain how birthdays don't matter to an alien spark plug. No matter how time travel works,Back to the Future IIIwill always be relevant.





	Mad World

**Author's Note:**

  * For [creatrixanimi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/creatrixanimi/gifts).



> A gift for [creatrixanimi](http://creatrixanimi.tumblr.com), who was amazingly patient when life blew up and I needed a few extra days. Also thanks to the RvB Secret Santa mods for organizing such a fun event again this year.

* * *

**The Present**

* * *

Nobody really celebrated things in Blood Gulch, especially not birthdays. Simmons could admit now that it was a miserable, boring, hot, pointless box canyon in the desert with nothing to do except run drills, do paperwork, patrol Red Base, and—on especially boring days–-try to see what the guys at the Blue Base were doing.

Then the rookies showed up, one Red, one Blue, and everything got a lot weirder. Besides Donut messing up Simmons’ chance at a promotion by somehow wheedling his way into Sarge’s good graces, both rookies were kind of young when they joined up, and _very_ stupid. Neither of them seemed to understand the basic concept of _being at war._ And suddenly everything was a reason to celebrate. 

Donut’s Daily Wine and Cheese Hour started first. Then there was Church’s Best Friend Celebration Spectacular, which Grif and Simmons had attended so they could get the food Donut made for it, and watch Church’s torment. 

Sarge decided he wanted in on the action and started making up random holidays when he was bored. And then it was _basically non-stop._ Interventions, War-iversaries, Armistice Day (for Red and Blue movie nights), and when they couldn’t think of anything else, eventually even birthdays were a thing. 

They weren’t as large an occasion as National Hot Dog Day, but they’d be as nice to the birthday guy as possible (they usually gave up five minutes in and dragged him more than usual), then there’d usually be a presentation of old warthog parts wrapped up like presents so they'd have something to unwrap. 

Donut always made cake, and Sarge allowed it after Donut swore up and down he wouldn’t make another one to jump out of because he didn’t want the joke to get stale. 

Simmons got a party after he told everyone when his birthday was and planted hints all over the Valhalla base that no one could escape. He’d timed it perfectly too, starting a week in advance to account for how long his teammates would hold out to avoid giving him positive attention before they cracked. 

“ _Okay! The surprise party is tomorrow!”_ Grif yelled. _“Please no more texts about how your dad never came to your birthdays! I can’t take it anymore!”_

Freckles had a birthday at Crash Site Bravo. Simmons didn’t remember a lot of it because of the blinding terror of being held hostage by a Mantis-class military assault droid and _Caboose,_ who wasn’t famous for his leadership skills or track record of most accidental kills. 

They didn’t always celebrate everyone’s birthdays every year, except for when they were on Iris. A lot of times throughout the years, they were busy with life threatening crap. There were accidents, and conspiracies, and missions to take out corrupt old white guys who were sometimes someone’s dad. 

But as Simmons stares at the alert that just pinged his HUD, he has no idea how he hadn’t realized they’ve never done a birthday for Grif. 

Sure, Sarge likes to joke about him being an unnatural abomination. But they had to have had _one_ birthday thing. 

After the Shizno incident was over, they came back to Iris with some pizza-to-go so they could try to have some time off again. Grif didn’t seem that happy to be back, but then again “retirement moon” had been Blood Gulch level of vacation, what with the never ending robot vs. dinosaur wars. And they had to chase some nesting dinosaur squatters out of the base before they could settle in again too. 

In a moment that was still crystal clear to Simmons--despite the months of time traveling with Sarge, and then being stuck in a Blood Gulch time bubble--Grif had said he thought everyone hated him. He'd been certain of it, and weirdly calm. Not apathetic though. _Resigned._

Simmons thinks it should be obvious by now that the ribbing is just the way that they talk to each other, and _he's_ the one with anxiety. Even Sarge makes sure Grif is always with them now. Has been extra eagle-eyed since they got separated. 

To use another manly metaphor, Grif's one of the supporting beams on Red Team. Without him they'll fall apart and Sarge would probably go crazy and try to sell everyone out to a serial killer so he could be a movie star. ...Again. 

But when Simmons tried to tell Grif that, he only downgraded his importance to “hate glue.” 

Simmons frowns at a cobweb clinging to the wall that he must have missed when he tricked everyone into celebrating Spring Cleaning, and realizes with his stomach slowly flipping that they never _showed_ Grif he was important. And Grif noticed, even though he pretended not to care. 

Grif thought they all hated him, could still think that, and they never gave him a reason not to. They’d been stuck together for fifteen years, had a drinking night dedicated to the anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic last week, and they never threw a party for Grif. 

Simmons pulls up their personnel files. He's filled out forms for Grif, of course. Comes with the territory of carrying Red Team through bureaucracy and making sure they get their pay and also file their taxes right. So how had this date never really registered before? 

May the Fourth. 

Grif's right. It always comes back to _Star Wars_. 

* * *

**The Past**

* * *

Huggins loved talking, and she loved people watching, and watching human movies. Like _Die Hard_. She and Grif got along super well really fast for her being a lens flare with knowledge supposedly beyond human comprehension. 

They’d finally broken down to camp for the night after _another_ day of walking across a _country._

What Grif wouldn’t give for some methshrooms now, but he’d used up the last of his stash during the last big battle and hadn’t had the chance to restock before they walked right into more shenanigans without even a pizza break. 

And now he was _hiking._ Something Huggins had totally tricked him into by mentioning his sister. He’d pulled a Sarge move and unloaded his gun at her, because that was dirty pool and she deserved it. But if this _were_ a TV show, she was way better sidekick material than that reporter lady. Plus, he probably should check on his sister now that he knew she wasn't dead and buried in Blood Gulch, and just lost in time like him instead. Nothing better to do in a world without pizza. 

“What are birthdays like?” Huggins chirped, interrupting his thoughts. 

Grif blinked at the wood he had been kicking into a pile. Oh right, he was trying to build a fire. Not that he needed it with armor on that he was going to sleep in rather than sleeping on the ground, but when you were camping, fires were always necessary for atmosphere. And roasting marshmallows. 

“Uh… I dunno,” he said. “Usually the same bullshit happens as any other day.” 

“I don’t get the appeal of most other human traditions, but isn’t there cake and singing and celebration and _presents?_ I thought that was important, since you humans don’t live so long.” 

“Okay, _one_ : Cake is always important. And _B_ : Yeah, birthdays are a big thing, but only when you’re a kid. When you’re an adult, typically no one gives a fuck.” 

Huggins flew in an anxious little circle around Grif’s head, settling into a hover in front of his visor. She had no face that he could see, but he got the impression that there were concerned eyes on him anyway. “But your friends—” 

“Have their own shit going on right now, if you haven’t noticed the epic quest you’re leading me on. I’ll be happy if I can just get a slice of pizza after all this is over.” 

Huggins clucked her non-existent tongue. Sentient light beings didn’t have tongues, so what made that noise? Unless she had a more alien humanoid type body and he just couldn’t see it with human eyes. Or she was extra-dimensional and the big spark was all that came through. _Or—_

“After I complete my mission and we defeat the Shizno, we will get pizza,” she said. 

Grif cracked a smile, and he was covered by a helmet, but she always seemed to know when she got him to smile and ran with it. 

“Ten pizzas!” She declared, zooming up and down dizzyingly, her light brightening. “And an Oreo cake!” 

Grif scoffed, but he couldn’t hide the smile from his voice. “Make that an ice cream Oreo cake and you have yourself a deal.” 

“Deal!” she yelled instantly. “I can’t wait to go to a human birthday party!” 

“Hey, no one said anything about it being a birthday party.” 

“It’s going to be _your_ birthday party. And it will not be bull shit.” 

“Hey, if you say so. It can be my birthday, if there’s Oreo ice cream cake on the line. And I’m getting the hint that spark plugs—” 

“Sentient light beings.” 

“—don’t have birthdays, huh? I _guess_ you can share mine as long as you pay for the pizza and cake and beer. I might even let you have some of the cake.” 

“Hey, I never said anything about beer. And human food is gross! You can keep it.” 

Grif snickered. 

* * *

**The Future**

* * *

Unfortunately, Huggins never got to follow through on her threat to throw Grif a birthday party. 

They fixed almost everything, and came back to Iris, and they even got pizza on the way. But they couldn't save Huggins. 

He’s been sleeping and bingeing TV for a few days. Almost no one's bothered him, though Kai's come in to visit and poke him a few times. 

It's fine. Okay, not really fine, but it's normal. You win some, you lose some. Just like every other stupid adventure. And he's getting used to losing by now. 

Grif stares at the light on the bedroom ceiling. Wonders if Huggins went out like a lightbulb, all burnt and cracked and blackened. He hopes there's an afterlife for little spotlights that talk way too much exposition. 

“Hey Grif!” 

How the hell does Sarge always sound like he has a megaphone when Grif knows for a fact he doesn’t know how to work the amplifier in his armor? 

“What?!” Grif screams through the wall, not moving an inch from his bed. “I’m busy!” 

“Get your lazy ass out here, Grif!” comes Simmons’ voice next. He's also good at projecting. If Grif didn't know better, he'd say he was a closet theater kid. 

“Fuck off, Simmons!” 

“Pretty please.” Grif jumps. Caboose’s voice is at a normal volume, and soft and coaxing, but right outside the door. 

Goddammit, of course they sent Caboose. Cheaters. 

“Ugh, _fine._ I’m coming.” Grif rolls out of his blanket nest, ruffling up his hair, and throwing on a semi-clean shirt he’s only worn once from the laundry pile on the floor. 

The instant he opens the door, he's greeted not by Caboose, but by the smell of something extremely burnt coming from the kitchen. “Donut better not have set the base on fire again,” Grif complains as he trudges into the common area the Reds and Blues share. 

“That better not have been a crack about my cooking,” Carolina says, her arms folded across her chest. Carolina's less scary now that they're kinda friends and he's seen her super baked. 

Actually, nah, she's still the same amount of scary when she wants to be, but her mouth is twitching up in the corner. Joking. 

“Just stating facts—" Grif freezes mid-step as he registers the rest of the room. 

There's a messy banner that was obviously half-painted by Donut in pastel shades of red, and the other half also obviously by Caboose because it says “Happy Birthday, Girff.” 

“Who’s Girff?” he says automatically to cover for his shock. There are streamers, and music playing from a comically antique boom box, and a poster of _Blade_ taped over the sink? 

It's also a full house with Wash and Carolina, and also Doctor Grey and Kimball, and the mockumentary film crack team of Dylan Andrews and the guy that filmed for her. Tucker’s depositing a large stack of pizza boxes on the counter, and it’s gotta be cold cuz it’s all the way from Sammie Rafaello’s. Sarge is standing with a twitchy nervous Simmons near the front, and the lieutenants are setting up board games and appetizers on the table, while Bitters leans back against the wall casually. 

“Girff is you, stupid!” Kaikaina says, ambushing him from the side with a bear hug. “Happy birthday, bro!” 

Donut swings in from the back where the kitchen is, twirling on one heel, holding a cake decorated with delicate swirls of peach icing and orange flowers. “I just whipped this one up quickly!” 

“You made a back-up cake,” Carolina says flatly, turning a real glare on Donut. 

“Of course! ” he says breezily. “Nothing can be left to chance on such an important occasion! Always use protection!” 

It's really hard for Grif to act cool about this. Everything about the dumb party shows how much they _know_ him, down to the _Battlestar Galactica_ special edition of Clue. 

Especially when Simmons shows him the message he got. It was a text alert from a post office on a remote colony that had been holding onto a parchment letter for 1000 years to give to a Dick Simmons on an exact date at an exact hour. The post office wanted some ridiculous fees for the hard copy to be delivered, but luckily they sent Simmons the transcript. It was a note to save the date for today, and make Grif’s next birthday the party of the century. 

Fucking time travel. 

Grif had always wanted some ancient clever letter from a time traveler delivered to him with an auspicious warning, or a hundred billion dollars. But he's really glad he knows Huggins liked _Back to the Future III_ now. They hadn’t gotten to those movies in their pop culture conversations yet. 

Donut put sparklers in the cake, and when he lights them, the sparks shoot up and down and dance and fly around excitedly. 

Surrounded by his family and friends, Grif blows out the candles. 

* * *

__  
Children waiting for the day they feel good  
Happy birthday  
Happy birthday  
Made to feel the way that every child should  
Sit and listen  
Sit and listen 

And I find it kinda funny  
I find it kinda sad  
The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had  
I find it hard to tell you  
I find it hard to take  
When people run in circles  
It's a very very  
Mad world  
Mad world 

**Author's Note:**

> May the Fourth is both a Star Wars joke, and a little bit of meta, since the Reds and Blues usually start their seasonal adventures in May through the summer. ;)


End file.
